(Come On In) The Whiskey's Fine

Me and my cousin Lendyl Got lost hunting Coon In the Carolina Mountains Somewhere outside of Boone We were just about to panic When 'ol Lendyl saw the sign It said, "Come on in! The whiskey's fine." That old shack looked abandoned Roof all fallin' in Just some petrified planks And some rusty ol' tin We both likely crapped our britches When a voice from inside Yelled, "Come on in! The whiskey's fine." Then those swingin' doors opened He staggered out on the porch Dressed just like Davey Crocket Beard clear down to the floor He said, "The band's drunk, beer's skunked, And we ain't got no wine, But come on in! The whiskey's fine." We peeked in over his shoulder And the first thing that we saw Was a boy pickin' a banjo In a pair of overalls He said, "That boy is half crazy, Plays the same song all the time, But Hey come on in! The whiskey's fine." "The food will make you sick, The air will make you choke, The waitress ain't a-workin', And the Jukebox is broke." He said, "the band's drunk, beer's skunked, And we ain't got no wine, But come on in! The whiskey's fine." He said, "The pinballs won't roll, The pool-table rocks, And it hotter than two rats in heat, Inside an old wool sock." "I wouldn't drink the water, It tastes like turpentine, We're way overpriced, And a little hard to find." "The band's drunk, the beer's skunked, And we ain't got no wine, But come on in! The whiskey's fine." "Ya'll come on it! The whiskey's fine!" "Ya'll come on in! Aawwww, The whiskey's fine!"